Easier To Run
by Shadowfax27
Summary: Ryan-Eric SLASH! AU after S5 Episode: “Burned”. What if Ryan never got his job back after he was fired? This is MM SLASH! Don't like? Don't read. Ye Be Warned! CHAPTER 8 NOW UP! Rated T. M-rating implied. STORY COMPLETE!
1. Prologue: Every Wrong Move

**Title: Easier To Run – 1/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko -- This is M/M SLASH!! Don't like? Don't read.

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **M – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **T for language and some sexual reference

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he was fired?

**A/N: **My first "comeback fic" after nearly 7 months of absence and not writing anything. These are a new breed of Plot Penguins, by the way. They're called, "What if…?" Penguins, and they're curious little buggers. Indulge them, if you will. Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For: Persikay**. **Happy Birthday**!

--

Chapter 1 – Prologue: Every Wrong Move

_It's easier to run  
Replacing this pain with something numb  
It's so much easier to go  
Than face all this pain here all alone_

_Something has been taken from deep inside of me  
The secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see  
Wounds so deep they never show they never go away  
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played_

It wasn't always like this.

There was a time when they were just colleagues. A time not long after when they became enemies. An even shorter time afterwards when Ryan's accident involving a nail gun drew them to declare a stalemate.

They started over, then, their new "friendship" as tentative as the truce they had made, until eventually, it grew to be something more, something neither of them expected but didn't want to ignore.

There was a time when they became lovers… in every sense of the word.

But not anymore.

Now… they don't even know what they are to each other. And Eric doesn't know what to think at present, now that they've come face-to-face again – on his own unexpected behest and much to Ryan's reluctance – after four months of non-contact.

All he knows is how he feels…

"Didn't think you'd show," Eric's voice is clipped, his eyes betraying the months of turmoil their separation has brought.

"Yeah, well…" Ryan shrugs, his tone just as clipped, detached, indifferent. "I'm here now. What do you want, Delko?"

_Delko._

He hasn't heard Ryan call him that since they became lovers. Even though they used to call each other by their last names at work to keep up professional appearances, alone, however, they were always on a first name basis.

He tenses up at that, his posture tightening in automatic defense as if an iron rod just poked him in the back. He grits his teeth, his jaw squaring visibly. He can feel the steam pouring out of his nose, his breath becoming heavy and labored as he senses his blood begin to boil.

Across from him, the ex-criminalist holds his ground, his face an unchanging mask of cold apathy. Only his eyes flicker from green to brown and then quickly back to green again, giving just the slightest hint of anger, of pain.

"I think you know," is the first thing out of the Cuban's mouth before he can regain composure, and he knows the other man comprehends what _exactly_ he's talking about.

But Ryan does a good job of pretending… or so he likes to think.

"Do I?"

There's a mock innocence in the way Ryan speaks, offset by the barely visible smirk smugly outlining the corners of his lips. He's taking pleasure in the way Eric's frustrated and annoyed by his non-answer, but he doesn't want to bring himself to care. He didn't come all this way just to defend himself again. And he's not about to make it easy for the Cuban.

They stare at each other.

"I want to know why," Eric finally breaks.

The younger man snorts at that and shakes his head, a mocking chuckle proceeding from his lips.

"That's a loaded question."

"I want to know why you did it, Ryan," Eric clarifies, his voice betraying his frustration. "I want to know why you gambled on the clock to pay off a suspect," he rattles off.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Yeah? Try me!" he rejoins, challenges, stepping closer now to invade his space.

He can't resist.

He just can't.

Even after four months of not seeing the younger man, of not hearing from him, of constantly wondering how things had gotten the way they did between them, he finds that Ryan still hasn't lost his touch – he can still get under the Cuban's skin like an itch that refuses to be scratched, riling him just as naturally as mouthing off words, just as unconsciously as breathing.

Hazel eyes bear into Eric's, the cold, indifferent mask swiftly replaced by a scowl. Eric can clearly see Ryan's hands balling into quivering little fists, tightening by his sides as he now struggles to keep calm.

There was a time when Eric had reveled in seeing those fists clench…

A time when those fists would clutch desperately at the damp sheets while its owner writhed and moaned in starburst rapture underneath him.

A time when those fists would seize his shirt to press full lips down onto slim ones, gifting him with an impassioned kiss, teasing him with what was to come when they finally got off their shift.

A time when those fists would grasp firm handfuls of his hair, back arching and hips dying to thrust up as Eric took him slowly and yet hungrily into his mouth, feeling the full weight of his arousal against the flat of his tongue, tasting his absolute pleasure.

But those times have changed.

Now, he remembers that last time four months ago, right before Ryan had vanished without so much as a good-bye, leaving Miami for good without a hint of where he had gone. That was when they had had their last blowup, their last unresolved fight.

And truth be told, Eric hasn't been able to shake the memory from his mind. No matter how much time has passed between them, the pain of that fateful night still lingers, the pictures dripping down like fresh paint even now, smearing his thoughts with unanswered questions, with an endless parade of "what ifs?" and "what abouts?" and "why's?".

It was the fight that would drive Ryan away from Eric and Eric from Ryan, leaving only a jagged trail of mistrust, pain, and anger and lazy promises that will never again be spoken in hushed ardor.

It was a fight that neither one wants to relive, to remember, even though their insides are still screaming what they already know and cannot avoid: they have to.

They have to deal with it.

They must rehash it.

No matter how much it hurts.

Because they know that in the end, they can never really move on until they face each other again, until they settle the fight that both knew they can't simply run away from…

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** Forgive the errors. My writing's a bit more than rusty, I know.


	2. Tearing Me Down

**Title: Easier To Run – 2/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **M – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **T for language and violence

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 2 – Tearing Me Down

_(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)  
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)  
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)  
(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)  
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)  
(I would take all my shame to the grave)_

_But those times have changed._

_Now, he remembers that last time four months ago, right before Ryan had vanished without so much as a good-bye, leaving Miami for good without a hint of where he had gone. That was when they had had their last blowup, their last unresolved fight. _

_And truth be told, Eric hasn't been able to shake the memory from his mind. No matter how much time has passed between them, the pain of that fateful night still lingers, the pictures dripping down like fresh paint even now, smearing his thoughts with unanswered questions, with an endless parade of "what ifs?" and "what abouts?" and "why's?"._

_It was the fight that would drive Ryan away from Eric and Eric from Ryan, leaving only a jagged trail of mistrust, pain, and anger and lazy promises that will never again be spoken in hushed ardor._

_It was a fight that neither one wants to relive, to remember, even though their insides are still screaming what they already know and cannot avoid: they have to._

_They have to deal with it. _

_They must rehash it._

_No matter how much it hurts._

_Because they know that in the end, they can never really move on until they face each other again, until they settle the fight that both knew they can't simply run away from…_

--

Four months earlier…

They were in Ryan's apartment, standing in the narrow hallway separating the living room from the dining room. Eric had actually rushed out to meet Ryan as soon as his shift ended, the hot Miami sun having just begun to kiss the edge of the glittering waters as he not-so-patiently fought his way through the rush-hour traffic.

When he finally reached the complex, he parked his car haphazardly into an empty space, his heart pounding too hard as he took the stairs up to the fourth floor three steps at a time, before banging on his lover's door.

It didn't take long for Ryan to answer, and Eric didn't waste any time with pleasantries.

"What the hell happened?!" he asked, nearly breathless as he spilled into the apartment.

"Well, 'hello' to you too," Ryan muttered.

Eric was about to spout off a none-too-pleasant comeback when he turned around and caught Ryan's disheveled appearance. He could tell that Ryan had been lying in bed, possibly turning fitfully, unable to quiet his mind, unable to get fully rested. He looked tired, even drained. His eyes were slightly red, but he couldn't tell if tears had caused them or if they were the result of tired ruminations of a troubled mind.

Nonetheless, the anguish flickering through those hazel greens were enough to soften him, if only for the time being. He reached out, trying to ascertain things from his lover's perspective, impatient to make sense out of the unthinkable.

He'd heard about what happened back at the lab. Horatio had actually called him into his office after he'd closed his last case, and he'd spoken to him behind closed doors. He never could've anticipated or imagined what he would hear from him next.

And that was why he was there… to talk to Ryan, to try to make sense out of everything.

That was the plan.

But things didn't always work out that easily. Things weren't always so clear-cut. Not between them, anyway. And that night didn't unravel as simply as he had hoped. In fact, the tension merely escalated, tightening to point where it was becoming quite a strain to breathe in the same room. It had gotten so thick that it was beginning to suffocate them. Consequently, it didn't take long before their conversation-turned-argument began to deteriorate even more.

And soon enough, Ryan had begun to stonewall, his defenses fully up and on high alert, determined to protect himself, to shut himself off from any more negativity, any more questions and criticisms and finger-pointing aimed his way. He had been so hurt and defensive, fuming and trembling with frustration beneath the surface.

But Eric wouldn't let up.

Didn't.

He wouldn't let Ryan off the hook, wouldn't allow him to sidestep his questions any longer. And all the while, he didn't want to believe what he'd been told. He refused to accept the answers he'd been given.

He had been so very angry, so overwhelmingly confused and feeling strangely and inexplicably betrayed for reasons that weren't even clear to himself. He had pushed and prodded for answers until he grew irritatingly tired and, inevitably, provoked Ryan so far out of the limits of his patience that he unexpectedly found himself hard-pressed against a flat surface, sandwiched between a frighteningly livid Wolfe and the simple wall bordering his living room.

That was the first time he'd feared that those same fists were going to strike and paint his face black and blue and purple and…

Red.

That was the only thing Ryan was seeing when his furious hands reached up to seize the taller man, holding him in place, his breath pouring out in hot, trembling mouthfuls as his face twisted up into a vicious snarl.

Eric would swear later on that he'd never seen Ryan Wolfe so devilishly angry before, so aggressively incensed and outraged.

Not until that night…

"That's ENOUGH!" Ryan exploded, his eyes gleaming with rage, with something nearly akin to murder. "Leave it alone, Delko! Just back off!"

He was trembling so powerfully and breathing so hard that Eric found himself fearing the younger man for a sliver of a moment before his own temper flared up inside him, spewing hot like lava, uncontrolled. And before Ryan could react, Eric got a hold of his shirt and retaliated, pushing him back and ramming him onto the adjacent wall just as hard.

If Ryan was winded, he didn't bother to show it. Instead, he only tightened his grip on Eric's shirt, adrenalin and a purely 'fight or flight' instinct taking over his whole being. And with a Herculean strength that surprised even the taller man, he shoved with all the anger that was fueling his body at the moment and slammed the Cuban back onto the opposing wall.

Then, as if on autopilot, his arm drew back, his left fist tightening, pulling back to deliver a blow.

At that moment, everything seemed to unravel in that proverbial slow motion. Eric's eyes could only widen in shock as he saw the fist coming straight towards him, rearing to put a dent on his face. He held his breath and braced himself, his body automatically tensing in anticipation of the hit. He turned his head just a little and closed his eyes, fearing the worst, and then…

Nothing…

No blow.

No pain.

No sound of knuckles connecting with flesh.

Not even blood.

Just… silence.

Thick. Almost defeaning.

He dared to open his eyes slowly, only to discover Ryan's fist just inches from his face, still just as tight and in its wound up position, but now seemingly suspended in mid-air, unable to follow through with the hit.

The younger man was still breathing hard, the greens of his eyes angry and blazing like red-hot coals. Eric could hear him panting through his nose, his chest and shoulders heaving, trembling visibly.

He dared to speak, to turn his head, to fight back.

Something…

_Any_thing…

But nothing moved.

His body wouldn't cooperate; all he could do was stand there and stare.

"Get out!" Ryan hissed through gritted teeth before letting the taller man go.

Eric watched him take a few steps back before turning away, raking his fingers through his hair in evident and barely contained agitation. Only then did Eric unglue himself from the wall.

"Ryan…"

"I said get out!" Ryan's tone was more forceful now, not quite reaching a yell, and there's a menacing glint in his eyes.

He was tired of fighting, tired of being blamed, of getting torn down piece by infuriating piece without the chance to be understood, no matter how hard he tried to explain things from his point of view. Sure he knew that what he did was extremely risky, foolish even. He fully expected that his actions might have some serious and possibly grave ramifications one way or another.

But what he didn't expect was to lose his job over it altogether. Never in his most horrific of nightmares could he have foreseen being so callously dismissed and in such a cutting, humiliating manner.

What's more, he didn't expect to have the people he respected and cared about turn his back on him either, especially when he was only trying to protect their integrity, their credibility, of all things. And he certainly didn't expect Eric to come barging into his home that same night, only to carry out a winless argument with him over it.

He didn't expect the Cuban to make him feel like he hadn't a single ally, not one friend left to stick by his side, fighting for him instead of fighting against him.

"No," Eric shot back, defiant.

Ryan turned an incredulous look on him, brows furrowing.

"What did you say?"

"I said _no_," Eric answered, a little stronger this time as he took a bold step closer.

And not one to back down, Ryan did the same.

"Don't push me, Eric," his tone held a warning. "Leave now, or I'll…"

"Or you'll what?" Eric cut him off like an obstinate child. "You'll follow through this time, huh? You'll finish what you started?" he asked, and there was no denying the challenge in his tone.

He could see Ryan fuming inside, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. He thought surely that he'd pushed his buttons once again, but to his surprise, Ryan merely spoke, his voice amazingly unruffled despite the chill in its tone.

"Leave, Eric," Ryan told him once more before turning his back to walk away. "Please… Not tonight."

But Eric would have none of it. And if there was one thing Eric hated during a fight or an argument, it was people turning their backs on him and walking away. He was _not_ going to be ignored.

Especially not by Ryan Wolfe.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Wolfe!" he nearly shouted, stalking over to grab the other's arm. "We're not finished, and I want--"

An arm suddenly swooshed past him, and Eric ducked just in the nick of time to avoid getting his jaw broken. His instincts took over, then, and before he could think clearly, he was charging and tackling Ryan back to the opposite wall with a back-breaking thud, knocking the breath out of him, before grabbing the younger man by his shirt and pinning him on the spot.

"What the hell was that?!" Eric shouted, enraged.

"Fuck off, Delko!" Ryan roared back, even as he struggled to catch his breath. "I don't…need…this shit…from you right…now!"

"That's right. You don't need this shit because you're already too deep in one!" Eric spat.

"FUCK YOU!" Ryan bellowed, anger pouring out of every pore in his body.

Bringing his face just inches from Ryan's, Eric hissed menacingly, "With pleasure."

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** Dum-dum-dum!! A cliffhanger! Mwah-ah-ah-ah-ah!!


	3. Cold And Out Of Breath

**Title: Easier To Run – 3/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **NC-17 or M for lots of foul language, violence, and rough sex

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 3 – Cold And Out Of Breath

_It's easier to run  
Replacing this pain with something numb  
It's so much easier to go  
Than face all this pain here all alone_

_But Eric would have none of it. And if there was one thing Eric hated during a fight or an argument, it was people turning their backs on him and walking away. He was not going to be ignored. _

_Especially not by Ryan Wolfe._

"_Don't you turn your back on me, Wolfe!" he nearly shouted, stalking over to grab his arm. "We're not finished, and I want -"_

_An arm suddenly swooshed past him, and Eric ducked just in time to avoid getting his jaw broken. His instincts took over, then, and before he could think clearly, he was charging and tackling Ryan back to the opposite wall with a back-breaking thud, knocking the breath out of him, before grabbing the younger man by his shirt and pinning him on the spot. _

"_What the hell was that?!" Eric shouted, enraged._

"_Fuck off, Delko!" Ryan roared back, even as he struggled to catch his breath. "I don't…need…this shit…from you right…now!"_

"_That's right. You don't need this shit because you're already too deep in one!" Eric spat._

"_FUCK YOU!" Ryan bellowed, anger pouring out of every pore in his body._

_Bringing his face just inches from Ryan's, Eric hissed menacingly, "With pleasure."_

--

He leaned in and crushed his lips against the shorter man's, and there was nothing romantic or sweet about the kiss. He dominated every bit of the exchange, keeping the pace fierce and angry and brutal to a punishing point, stealing the fight away from Ryan.

And when he finally released his mouth, he didn't ease his hold on his shirt but half-dragged and half-pushed Ryan backwards towards the dining room until the backs of his thighs roughly hit the edge of the dinner table and his back thudded flat against its smooth mahogany surface.

Still too shocked and a bit winded from their previous exchange, Ryan could do nothing but watch as Eric began to undo his own belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants soon after. It was only when Eric let both pieces of fabric fall around his ankles did Ryan see how terribly aroused Eric had gotten.

"Eric…" Ryan gasped helplessly, not knowing whether to beg Eric to stop or to continue.

"Shut up," Eric hissed as he started to work on Ryan's jeans.

"Please…"

Grunting, Eric roughly tugged at his jeans and boxers. He pulled them down towards his ankles before grabbing Ryan by his shirt once more. And with more force than was necessary, Eric pulled him off the table just enough to forcefully flip him around so that his back was against his chest.

"Is this what you want, Wolfe?" Eric sneered in a sinister way against his ear before grabbing the back of Ryan's neck and pushing his head face down, holding it against the table. "Is this how you want it done?"

"Fuck you!" Ryan cursed through gritted teeth, even as he heard the Cuban spit and then felt a warm wetness coat him from behind.

He trembled from the sensation.

"No… Fuck you, Wolfe!" Eric shot back as he took Ryan against the dining room table, his hand steadily pushing down on the back of his neck as the other gripped his hip to a bruise. "Fuck you!" he groaned as he entered him forcefully with one stroke, tearing a stifled moan out of the younger man's throat.

He held on tighter and leaned down, his chest pressing against Ryan's shirt-clad back, his mouth smearing words of lust and hurt and anger into his left ear, spurred on by the half-strangled gasps and moans that were bleeding out of Ryan's mouth.

"Fuck you, Ryan…" Eric's voice was somewhere between a labored whisper and a groan. "Fuck you…" he cursed, reciting the bitter phrase over and over again like a prayer, as if it would deliver him from the turmoil of emotions he was feeling right then and there. "Fuck you…"

He would curse and thrust. Curse and thrust. Every blow was delivered to punctuate each curse with an angry thrust of his hips, plunging into Ryan deeply, impaling him, owning him… reproving him for his foolishness, _punishing _him for doing something so monumentally stupid.

"Fuck you… Fuck you… Fuck you…"

He was close now.

So near to losing everything – so very close to losing control.

He picked up the pace and pummeled into Ryan savagely, not bothering to curse anymore. Instead, he focused all of his anger and lust into the task until his vision started to gray around the edges, and everything became too much. And the next thing he knew, his teeth were sinking fiercely onto Ryan's shoulder, biting him as he groaned out his pleasure, digging his nails against a pale hip, and coming so hard and fast that it made his entire body shudder like he'd never felt before.

He heard Ryan's muffled cry soon after as his own orgasm took him over like a storm, but he dared not look at his lover's face anymore. He didn't think he could carry on with his anger if his eyes were to behold Ryan's again.

He allowed his own tremors to subside as he tucked his forehead against the former CSI's back, hiding his face in the process. And when he felt like he had control of his body again, and without so much as a word, Eric pulled out abruptly and began cleaning up, Ryan following suit a moment later.

The air thundered with silence between them once more, save for the sounds made by their movements as they reoriented themselves and started to dress.

"Eric," Ryan started to say, "I…" but he was cut off before he could finish.

"No. Just… Stop," Eric's voice was firm, cold, and he avoided Ryan's beseeching gaze even as he was zipping up his pants, straightening his shirt. "I don't want to know, Ryan. I don't want to hear it."

"So, what? That's it? You're just gonna leave now after all this?"

Ryan's voice was incredulous, and Eric had to fight the urge to face him. He knew that he'd break down and give in if he were to gaze into those hazel greens. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist.

Sighing, he shook his head, still avoiding eye contact, "Well, that's what you wanted before, wasn't it? You wanted me to get the fuck out of here so, yeah…"

He shrugged, and Ryan didn't know what to say to that. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it; opened his mouth again but no words would come out. He breathed a resigned sigh, knowing that it would be pointless to argue back.

"Look… I just need to be alone right now. Okay? I need time to think," Eric replied, trying to find any excuse he could find.

"About what?"

"You… Everything…" he told him flatly.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Ryan was getting angry again. He could sense the panic welling up inside. He had that dreadful feeling like he was about to be let go, disposed of, abandoned by the one person he loved the most. He had to fight hard to restrain himself. It took all of his willpower not to grab the taller man again, shove him hard against the wall, and make him explain his nonsense.

But Eric held his stubborn ground and simply shook his head, acting like this was no big deal and that Ryan was being ridiculous to worry, that he was somehow overreacting.

"Nothing… It doesn't have to _mean _anything, Ryan. Like I told you… I just need some time to myself, okay?"

Still too staggered, Ryan could only nod dumbly at that. Somehow, he knew that this was it, that this was the end of them as they knew it. Eric might not have known, but at that moment, Ryan certainly did.

That same dreadful feeling that had been creeping up his spine had warned him that something wasn't right, and he wasn't going to lie anymore just to protect himself from the encroaching heartache; he wasn't going to try to deny the pain any longer. He knew it would be futile to think otherwise. Because Eric was leaving. That much he knew for certain. And he wasn't about to turn a blind eye to the consequences of such a selfish act.

He knew it was over between them.

And he knew that things would never be the same again.

The coldness with which the Cuban had spoken to him was proof enough. It was just ironic to him how it was almost too easy for both of them to just give up, particularly at a time when they should be standing side by side and fighting_ for _each other, instead of _with _each other_._

"_No, he's giving up first…" _Ryan thought dimly. _"It's easier when he's the first to run."_

His chest was suddenly aching. With every intake of air, he was finding it more and more difficult to breathe as the full force of that thought hit him like a storm. He could feel his heart thundering, crashing… splintering into a thousand angry little pieces right at that moment, powerless as it breaks in muted suffering.

And Eric would never know about it.

It was pure torture to bite his tongue, to keep silent about the many things he could say to defend himself, to make himself appear at least half right. He wanted so much to beg the Cuban to stay and to listen to his rebuttal once more, to give his side of things one more go at an explanation. He wanted to parry back and get the last word in.

But he decided right then and there that he was tired of fighting with Eric. He was tired of being the fool in this relationship.

Tired of being the fool.

Period.

No, he would keep everything to himself.

He would hide his anger and embrace the feeling of being disapproved of, of feeling like a castaway, a failure – an embarrassing disappointment to the team.

And then he would bury the pain.

He would hold on to that gut-wrenching feeling of being alone, abandoned, and even betrayed, and he would let that carry him through. He would let those feeling wash over him so that he'd have a crutch, so to speak – a reason to turn his back on this fight and leave without regrets.

That was how he was going to try to be strong: he won't let himself appear weak, even if it hurt him like a bitch.

"I'm sorry…" Eric finally mumbled under his breath, still avoiding Ryan's gaze.

It was more like a careless afterthought, however, devoid of any real meaning. He wasn't exactly sure what he was sorry about or if he even meant it as an apology.

But he figured that it wasn't like he was the one at fault here. Really, it was Ryan who should be apologizing to him for getting himself into this shit of a predicament. He only said what he said because it just felt like the right thing to say at the time (and because he didn't know what else to say)… even though he felt nothing resembling an act of contrition behind those words.

He could feel Ryan's eyes upon him, watching his every move the way a predator might study its prey. It was beginning to unnerve him, to be honest. And yet still, Eric dared not meet those inquisitive eyes.

He didn't want to look.

He just… couldn't.

Not right now.

And finally, with the last of his clothes on, Eric took in a tremulous breath, headed for the door, and opened it quickly. And then with one determined foot right after the other, he stepped out, slammed the front door shut, and then… left.

Abruptly.

Suddenly.

He left and didn't bother to look back.

He left and allowed his stubborn pride to take over.

He left…

And he'd never know how Ryan crumbled to his knees and cried.

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** I know, I know… smutty but sad. What can I say? It's what the Penguins wanted.


	4. All Said And Done

**Title: Easier To Run – 4/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **PG for mild language

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: ** Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 4 – All Said And Done

_i(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)  
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)  
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)  
(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)  
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)  
(I would take all my shame to the grave)_

_And finally, with the last of his clothes on, Eric took in a tremulous breath, headed for the door, and opened it quickly. And then with one foot right after the other, he stepped out, slammed the front door shut, and then… left. _

_Abruptly. _

_Suddenly._

_He left and didn't bother to look back._

_He left and allowed his stubborn pride to take over. _

_He left… _

_And he'd never know how Ryan crumbled to his knees and cried._

--

It was a full two weeks later after their last fight when Eric finally broke down and decided to give Ryan a call.

At first, he thought that maybe Ryan was just not ready to speak to him since his calls kept getting routed directly to his voicemail. But after two more days of not answering his phone and of Eric leaving increasingly worried messages, he finally got desperate and gave up, deciding to drop by the former CSI's place for a change.

He didn't see Ryan's car in the lot, but he figured he'd sit in front of the door and wait for him to come home. Sidestepping a man wearing a dull green shirt, who was stepping out from behind a large yellow cargo truck parked in front of the building, he decided to forego the elevator and jogged up the staircase all the way to level four.

When he got there, he slowed to a walk towards Ryan's door, catching his breath in the process. He figured he'd give the door an exploratory rap just in case.

He raised his hand, but before he could knock, the door suddenly swung open, and he found himself staring at a couple of burly men in their late thirties, covered from head to toe with dust and sweat. He stood at the doorway, too stunned move, his hand still up in mid-air, getting ready to knock.

The men didn't say a word, merely grunted and pushed passed him without giving him a second glance, as they made their way towards the elevator. Eric's confused stare followed them for a moment before his dumbfounded gaze returned to Ryan's apartment, seeing the door had been left wide open.

He swallowed and ventured a small, hesitant step inside, and to his horror, the apartment was now completely empty. Save for a couple of large pieces of furniture (none of which, he observed, belonged to Ryan) and some boxes stacked up in the corner of what used to be the living room, the apartment itself was unmistakably bare, eerily silent.

Even his heart, which had now begun to hammer up to his ears, seemed to bounce off the barren walls, beating him with a fierce echo.

"Ryan…" was the only thing Eric's voice could utter as a paralyzing dread began to sink in.

His insides began to tremble all of a sudden. His legs and knees felt weak. He could feel a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and it made him sick with fear. His mind was processing what the evidence, or the lack thereof, was hinting at. His head was telling him exactly what these signs meant.

But he refused to believe it.

He didn't _want_ to believe it.

He wanted to run, to scour the apartment just to make sure, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate, his feet planting themselves like weeds on the floor. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in deeply, willing himself to push down his anxiety, even as he felt his head grow dizzy, his body starting to sway.

And then…

"Mister?" he heard a small voice, a foreign voice.

It was unfamiliar and yet strangely vulnerable, unsure, as if tears had soaked it until it was broken through and through. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to open his eyes and found a pair of hazel green ones staring up at him, glassy and questioning at the same time. It reminded him of someone all-too-familiar, and it was all he could do not to crumble into pieces.

"Mister?" the little girl's tear-stained voice reached his ears once more, just as small as the last time, and Eric found himself squatting down slowly to meet her eye-to-eye.

He swallowed for a second time and forced a friendly smile, schooling his voice to come out steady and gentle despite the fist-sized lump lodged thoroughly in his throat.

"Hey there," he greeted shakily then cleared his throat. "What's your name?"

"Lizzie," she replied softly, shyly.

She looked to be about four years old, maybe five at the most.

Eric noticed she was holding a little doll that had a striking likeness to her: long, dark hair; bright, hazel green eyes; two pink bows on either side of her perfectly braided pigtails; wearing a pink t-shirt and a short blue denim skirt with little pink frills on the hem. The doll she had in her arms was also holding what looked like a fluffy, little dog, perhaps a puppy resembling a miniature schnauzer.

His eyes traveled down from the doll, to the miniature dog, back to the doll, and finally up to her. She looked like she'd been crying or was about ready to cry. Eric didn't know what to say to her, his own heart breaking at the sight, at what he'd just discovered, but he tried to find his voice anyway, tried to smile despite the pain.

"Hi, Lizzie… I'm Eric," he paused, not wanting to ask the next question but knew that he had to.

"No, I'm sorry…" he replied. "Is this your home?"

She nodded, "Uh-huh… 's new," she replied, and Eric had to smile at what she meant.

"I'm sure you're gonna like it here… It's a nice place."

He caught himself at that, his own words crashing into him all of a sudden, hitting him with a dose of reality he'd rather not deal with right now. He struggled to right himself and focus on the child.

Lizzie smiled faintly, "You live here too?"

"No…" Eric shook his head, knowing what she meant. "But I know someone who did."

And having said those words, he felt his cheeks start to redden, the burn behind his eyes intensifying to the point that he had to look down to hide his face and blink back the glassiness that were threatening to dissolve him into tears. He didn't notice that the girl had come forward until she had lain a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He looked up into her innocent and miserable eyes just as another voice nearly startled him from behind.

"Excuse me…" the voice said.

Eric stood quickly and whirled around, coming face to face with the green-shirted man he saw at the back of the truck just moments ago. He was carrying a large brown box, which he promptly set down to the side of the doorway. With his forearm, he wiped the sweat off his forehead just as Eric cleared his throat.

"Um… hi," was all he could manage as he quickly ducked his head, still blinking the burn from the back of his eyes.

Noticing the badge on his belt, the man relaxed and asked, "Hello... Uh, can I help you, Officer…?"

"Delko," Eric replied quickly, offering his hand. "I'm Eric Delko, CSI."

The man shook it and introduced himself in turn.

"I see you've met my daughter Lizzie," he said, nodding towards his tear-stained little girl. "I apologize if she looks like she'd been crying. We just lost her puppy right before the move. We tried to look for it, but we had to get going. Poor thing's still hurting over it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Eric replied, understanding for the first time why the girl looked the way she did.

"Do you live in the building?" the man asked next.

"Um, no… no. I don't live here," he replied, shaking his head.

"Oh, then… Is there a problem?" the man asked wearily, his brows furrowing.

Shaking his head again, Eric managed a weak chuckle, "No… There's no problem at all. I was just… looking for a friend of mine."

"Ah," the man replied, nodding. "I gather this friend used to live here?" he stated more than asked.

"Yeah, he did," Eric confirmed. "I was just coming by to visit. I didn't know he'd moved."

"Well, I can tell you that we've been looking to move in the area for a while," the man began to explain. "I work downtown, you see, and I've been wanting an easier commute. We looked everywhere for a decent and affordable place to live but couldn't find anything vacant. We actually looked here and really liked it, but they didn't have anything available at the time. I left my name and number with the landlord, just in case anything opened up."

"I see…"

"Anyway, I got a call saying that they had an apartment available that fit what I was looking for. I was really surprised to hear that, and thrilled, of course, especially since they told me the first time that it would be months before anything might even open up. As you can imagine, I jumped at the first opportunity to move."

"When did you get the call?"

"Oh, I'd say… Maybe almost two weeks ago?"

"_Almost two weeks?" _Eric thought, staggered by the revelation. _"That means Ryan could've left as early as the next day. I'm already late… too late."_

He tried to focus and gather his thoughts as he asked, "Did the landlord say what happened to the tenant?"

"No… he just said that one of his tenants was breaking his lease because he had to move immediately," he replied. "I imagine he must've had to pay a hefty fee before he could terminate his leasing contract. But no, I didn't really ask what happened. Sorry…"

"Um, no… that's okay," Eric managed, straightening up to leave. "I guess I'll just try his phone again and see if I could reach him," he lied, knowing that his calls would remain unanswered.

He was trying to find excuses now. He wanted so very badly to leave, to get out of there fast. Despite the now-empty rooms, the memories they'd shared in that place were beginning to crowd at him, haunting him like an unfinished business. He was afraid he'd lose control of his emotions if he didn't say good-bye soon.

"Well, uh… thanks for your help," he finally said, shaking the man's hand again. Then turning towards the little girl, he forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "It was nice to meet you too, Lizzie. I know you'll like living here."

And with another nod at the man in the green shirt, he excused himself and left with only one staggering thought:

Ryan was gone.

He had left. Disappeared without so much as a word. Ran away to who knew where. Vanished without saying good-bye.

And it hurt.

Like hell, it hurt.

And now, he was too late.

If only he could go back to that night two weeks ago, to that unresolved fight that would eventually tear them apart, then he'd surely make amends. He would've said he was sorry for his finger-pointing and self-righteous outburst, and he would've meant it. He would've apologized for taking Ryan the way he did, even though a small, stubborn part of him still kept rationalizing that Ryan did let him do it.

And he would've been begging Ryan for forgiveness for leaving him so abruptly afterwards, not once even looking back.

In fact, now that he'd had time to think about it, he wouldn't have left him alone at all. He wouldn't have been that foolish and that stubborn to make such a terrible mistake, a terrible mess of things. He'd make sure to not to leave things as they were.

He'd make sure to set things right.

If only he'd known then what he knew now, he would've given Ryan the benefit of a doubt. He would've given him a chance to be believed as he tried to explain himself, his motivations for committing such a risky and reckless thing.

He wouldn't have remained silent and distant for so long. i_Too/i_ long, in fact. He would've called Ryan much sooner than he did. He wouldn't have been so fucking pigheaded, wanting only to be in the right without really caring about what Ryan had to say.

If only he'd stood by his side, fought for Ryan and supported him like he should have from the very beginning, even though he disagreed with his actions, even though he thought what he did was foolish and reckless.

Then Ryan wouldn't have felt alone. He wouldn't have felt compelled to go away. He would've had a good reason to stay. And he wouldn't have left without saying good-bye.

But now, Ryan was gone.

That much he knew for certain.

And he wondered if he'd ever get another chance to start things over, to do things right the second time. He wondered if he'd ever see Ryan again; speak to him and try to work things out.

What he wouldn't do now to see that opportunity come to pass.

What he wouldn't give to lay eyes upon his (ex?) lover once more.

What he wouldn't give to hold him in his arms and hear him murmur his name like a careless whisper.

What he wouldn't give to find Ryan Wolfe and bring him back.

If only he could turn back the time…

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** My apologies for the delay. I've had a long, busy holiday weekend.


	5. Simpler Than Change

**Title: Easier To Run – 5/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **R or T for language and violence

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 5 – Simpler Than Change

_Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past  
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have  
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back  
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past_

_But now, Ryan's gone._

_That much he knew for certain. _

_And he wondered if he'd ever get another chance to start things over, to do things right the second time. He wondered if he'd ever see Ryan again; speak to him and try to work things out._

_What he wouldn't do now to see that opportunity come to pass. _

_What he wouldn't give to lay eyes upon his lover once more._

_What he wouldn't give to hold him in his arms and hear him murmur his name like a careless whisper._

_What he wouldn't give to find Ryan Wolfe and bring him back._

_If only he could turn back the time…_

--

Four months later…

And now, they're back to square one; back to the same unresolved fight where they'd left off just four months ago, the same fight that stamped the seal of separation between them.

Eric's heart is telling him to just drop it, pleading with him to be understanding, to not repeat the same mistake that lead to this mess in the first place, to stand by Ryan despite of how imprudent his actions were in the past. And truth be told, he wants to tell Ryan he's sorry for being such a stubborn ass. He wants to beg Ryan to return, to come home to Miami, to come back to his life.

He wants to tell him that he's never stopped loving him and that he wants him back so very badly.

But seeing Ryan again, seeing that cold expression on his maddeningly handsome face, has brought back all the anger and pain and frustrations of that fateful night. In his grief and loneliness, he's almost forgotten how terribly infuriating Ryan can be, especially when he's being so damn willful. And now, he's finding it impossibly difficult to let those old feelings go.

Consequently, he let those emotions crowd out the part of his heart that just wants to forgive and be forgiven and move on.

Both are still too obstinate, too proud. And neither one is willing to give in, to back down.

_They stare at each other._

"_I want to know why," Eric finally breaks._

_The younger man snorts at that and shakes his head, a mocking chuckle proceeding from his lips._

"_That's a loaded question."_

"_I want to know why you did it, Ryan," Eric clarifies, his voice betraying his frustration. "I want to know why you gambled on the clock to pay off a suspect," he rattles off._

"_You wouldn't understand."_

"_Yeah? Try me!" he rejoins, challenges, stepping closer now to invade his space._

_He can't resist. _

_He just can't._

_Even after four months of not seeing the younger man, of not hearing from him, of constantly wondering how things had gotten the way they did between them, he finds that Ryan still hasn't lost his touch – he can still get under the Cuban's skin like an itch that refuses to be scratched, riling him just as naturally as mouthing off words, just as unconsciously as breathing._

_Hazel eyes bear into Eric's, the cold mask swiftly replaced by a scowl. Eric can clearly see Ryan's hands balling into quivering little fists, tightening by his sides as he now struggles to keep calm._

"Forget it, Delko," Ryan answers dismissively, unclenching his fists. "We've gone through this before. You're wasting your time if you think my reasons have changed. They're the same as the last time. I've got nothing else to say."

"You have nothing to say," he repeats, asking more than stating, his tone plainly incredulous. "So, you're telling me that you're not even sorry at all, that you don't regret anything that happened."

"Well, what the hell do you want me to say?" he challenges, feeling defensive all over again. "I can't change anything now, can I? And it's not like I can get my old job back. It's not like it'll make any difference now."

"Well, how 'bout starting with 'I'm sorry' for a change?" he retorts, unable to help himself. "Can't go wrong with that," he adds sarcastically, almost spitting out the words.

"Oh… So that's what this is," Ryan parries back, his lips twisting into a tight sneer. "It's always about 'who's to blame' with you, isn't it?"

"Don't turn this around, Ryan," Eric warns, his own mouth curving to match the younger man's expression. "I'm not the one who got fired, remember? I'm not the one who screwed up and left town!"

"Well I'm _not_ sorry, alright?" Ryan fires back once more, knowing that he's speaking more out of anger than from his heart. "I did what I had to do, and I'm not going to apologize for it! Why can't you just let it go?"

"Same old Wolfe," he huffs now in disbelief, shaking his head as he grits his teeth again. "Always thinking about yourself."

"Takes one to know one," Ryan mutters under his breath, knowing that it will incite the Cuban.

And it did…

Large hands finally grab at his jacket, forcefully slamming his back against the nearest wall. His own fists somehow manage to find their way to the older man's wrists, holding on, bracing himself against it.

He can't help but feel that he's been in this awfully familiar situation before.

He can't help but feel like he's reliving that night four months ago all over again.

"You just don't give a fuck, do you?" Eric is furious now, his breath heated against Ryan's face. "You don't care that your actions could've put the lab in danger, could've called our team's reputation and credibility into question!" he's yelling at this point, his voice rising to the level of his anger.

"I did it for the lab!" Ryan shoots back defensively. "I did it to protect everyone!"

"You know what?" Eric's tone is cutting, severe. "I don't believe you one bit."

"Look… I know I fucked up, okay?" Ryan's voice is still defensive, though his eyes betrayed his pleading. "I don't need you to remind me about how I screwed up."

"Then why did you do it?" Eric's still angry, and Ryan knows he's not going to like his answer, no matter how dismally sincere or fuck-tastically truthful it is.

"Because I thought I was doing the right thing!" Ryan blurts out, exasperated.

"Bullshit! You don't give a flying fuck about anyone, Ryan!" Eric is yelling now. "You don't care about me. You don't care about the lab. You're a selfish bastard who only cares about yourself! And because of what you did, now we're the ones left to pick up the pieces. We're left trying to fix your fucked up 'mistake'!"

The venom in his voice is enough. And before Eric can blink, Ryan is gripping his shirt back, pushing and slamming him against the opposite wall with such brute force that it knocks the breath out of him for a moment.

A picture frame falls onto the wooden floor with a splintering crash, the glass shattering before the whole thing plops flat with an audible crunch.

It goes unnoticed…

"FUCK YOU!" Ryan roars furiously, his face only inches away from Eric's, his eyes blazing like daggers set on fire. "You don't know shit about me! You don't know what the fuck I've been through!"

"I know you gave up and ran away," Eric somehow managed to gasp.

"Bullshit!" Ryan spits back. "I didn't run away. I fucking left!"

"Yeah, exactly… That's what you're _good_ at."

The snide remark isn't lost on Ryan, and he bites back, "And why should I stay, huh? You didn't give a damn about what happened to me. You were too stubborn, too busy pointing your self-righteous finger at me to really listen to my side of things. Why the hell should I stick around when I'm not wanted? When you yourself had given up on me?"

"Is that what you think?" Eric's voice is openly shocked, incredulous. "You think we gave up on you?"

"I don't care about them!" Ryan cries out in absolute frustration. "I only cared about you. What you thought of me. But you…" he trails off all of a sudden, exhausted and overcome with hurt.

He wants so very badly to tell Eric that he has no right to confront him about these things, to point the finger of blame in his direction again, especially when _he_ was the one who walked away and gave up on him in the first place, four months ago, in fact -- _he_ was the first one to run… not him.

"Ryan, I…"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Ryan shouts now, not wanting to hear anymore.

Eric is just about to lash out once more when the most unexpected thing happens…

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** So, what happens now? Wait and see… mwahahaha!!


	6. Come Find Me

**Title: Easier To Run – 6/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **T (M-Rating implied)

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 6 – Come Find Me

_Just washing it aside  
All of the helplessness inside  
Pretending I don't feel misplaced  
It's so much simpler than change_

_The snide remark isn't lost on Ryan, and he bites back, "And why should I stay, huh? You didn't give a damn about what happened to me. You were too stubborn, too busy pointing your self-righteous finger at me to really listen to my side of things. Why the hell should I stick around when I'm not wanted? When you yourself had given up on me?"_

"_Is that what you think?" Eric's voice is openly shocked, incredulous. "You think we gave up on you?"_

"_I don't care about them!" Ryan cries out in absolute frustration. "I only cared about you. What you thought of me. But you…" he trails off all of a sudden, exhausted and overcome with hurt._

_He wants so very badly to tell Eric that he has no right to confront him about these things, to point the finger of blame in his direction again, especially when __he__ was the one who gave up on him in the first place, four months ago, in fact -- __he__ was the first one who walked away… not him._

"_Ryan, I…"_

"_SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Ryan shouts now, not wanting to hear anymore._

_Eric is just about to lash out once more when the most unexpected thing happens…_

--

In all the years he's known Ryan, Eric has never seen him show just how vulnerable, how emotionally exhausted and broken he has gotten.

Though it is true that he's witnessed the former patrol officer's temperamental side and has even heard about him being affected by death's finality when he first began as a CSI, he has always been able to reign in his reactions, trampling just enough of his inner vulnerabilities so that only the tough police persona would show.

But now, suddenly, the younger man has fallen weak in front of him, his grip loosening as he clenches his eyes shut. And with a long-repressed sob, his body begins to tremble as his head drops, sinking to a tired and fitful rest on Eric's chest, his shoulders convulsing, racking visibly and uncontrolled as hot, traitorous tears begin to soak through the Cuban's shirt.

And without thinking, Eric's hand reaches up to cradle Ryan's head against his chest, his fingers automatically clutching a handful of the dark hair against his head. His other arm wraps itself snugly across his back, holding on desperately, trying to calm the shaking, wanting to comfort, to feel the closeness he's missed for four agonizing months.

He doesn't ever want to let go…

They stand like that for what seems like an eternity, Ryan emptying out all the months of frustration and pain at feeling abandoned by those he cared about, by those he'd once considered his family. The betrayal he's been feeling had run deep back then and still does to this day.

He thought he could move on if only he left Miami and erased that part of his life from his memory. But the past, it seems, has no intention of letting him escape unscathed, of letting him move on with nary a memory of what took place.

And the anger that he thought he'd filed away for good when he left all those months ago has only been brewing beneath the surface, made stronger now by the presence of the one person he thought would never abandon him – the one person he'd counted on to fight for him… to fight for _them_.

He can't ever recall a time when he'd felt so alone… so perfectly _betrayed_.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," was all Eric could whisper as he held the crying man in his arms, his own repressed tears finally welling up and spilling hot from his eyes.

And this time, Eric meant every word of it.

"I'm so sorry."

--

_It's easier to run  
Replacing this pain with something numb  
It's so much easier to go  
Than face all this pain here all alone_

In the morning, Ryan is the first to wake up, just before the unwelcome dawn is about to take its early peer into Eric's bedroom. It is the first time he can remember sleeping soundlessly, without waking up prematurely, without dreaming about the life or the lover he'd left behind, now slumbering deeply to his right.

It is the first night in a long time when he's felt secure, _whole_, fitting like a long lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

And it felt… _good_.

His mind begins to wander now, remembering in brilliant detail the slow fervor that had fueled their bodies just last night. Compared to the harsh nature of their coming together four months ago, last night's meeting had been unhurried, deliberate – a slow burn that only grew in intensity as the night wore on.

_Strong arms had encircled him, refusing to let go. The hands attached to those arms had been gentle, the palms rough but warm as they cupped his face._

_Reluctantly, he looked up, only to come face to face with deep tan eyes thick with remorse – a striking face streaked wet with repentance. It was all too much; too soon for him to take. He turned his head, trying to look away, all at once feeling an unrelenting sort of shame for his weakness. _

_He mentally cursed, chastising himself for breaking down like that, especially in front of Eric._

_He tried to break out of the tight hold, but the hands only held on tighter, a calloused finger now wiping away the tears from his cheeks. He forced his eyes down, his gaze unintentionally locking on full, parted lips. His own mouth parted at the sight, unaware of his reaction until he felt the touch of a thumb caressing his lips with tenderness._

_He dared another peek into those eyes and immediately regretted it. Because looking into those oracles told him the one truth he'd been trying his damnedest to ignore: that he wasn't the only one who felt dead to the world when he left without a word; that he wasn't the only one who got hurt when they both decided to numb the pain by running._

_His heart ached at the sight, staggered by the devastating truth in Eric's eyes. And it didn't help that he was suddenly aware of their proximity as he felt the heat pouring out of the Cuban's body. He could smell his sweat, his tears. And the scent of tanned skin through his shirt became overpowering. _

_He could feel his own control slipping, as if he were trying to hold on to thin air. He wanted to move but couldn't. He was trying so very hard to deny what his body wanted, trying hard to turn his back on his heart._

_He closed his eyes…_

_And that was when he felt those same full lips close over his own, soft yet insistent, growing more and more desperate with every stolen breath, as those same strong arms and those same strong hands engulfed his body in slow, burning heat…_

He swallows hard as he senses his arousal's awakening, and he pushes all fervent thoughts of his night on Eric's bed out of his mind for the time being.

He takes a moment now to remember and cherish the feel of the warm body next to him, savoring the weight of the arm draped haphazardly and yet possessively around his torso.

He knows that this can't last long.

He turns his head slightly to the right, being careful not to make any sudden movements. And a small, bittersweet smile tugs on the corners of his mouth as he watches Eric sleep on his stomach, the Cuban's face turned towards him, his expression blank but peaceful.

He doesn't want to leave; doesn't want to let go.

But he knows he has to.

Slowly, carefully, he untangles himself from Eric's arm and gets off the bed. He gathers his clothes and dresses as silently as he can, trying not to disturb the older man. He doesn't bother with washing up or fixing his hair. He figures he'll just do those things when he gets back to his hotel, right before he checks out.

And when he's finally put his shoes on, he cautiously sits back on the edge of the bed and leans down to leave a quiet message.

_"If you love me…"_he hears himself thinking, as if speaking to the Cuban, _"If you're really serious about being with me…"_

He pauses, then, swallowing down the knot in his throat before voicing the only thing he's ever wanted the CSI to do.

"Fight for me, Eric," he whispers now, pouring out his heart's breath into the Cuban's ear. "Fight for us…"

He can feel the burn in the backs of his eyes as he softly kisses Eric's cheek for what may possibly be the last time. Then he pulls away and glances down, hazel greens lingering for just a moment, heartsick with pain and longing.

"Come find me…"

Eric doesn't even stir.

"Find me…" he whispers again and again, hoping that Eric can somehow hear him through the haze of his slumber. "Find me… Find me…"

Taking a last mournful look at the still-sleeping man, Ryan breathes a silent but heavy sigh before slowly and half-heartedly getting up from the bed. And without giving himself a chance to second-guess his decision, the former CSI walks quickly to the door, one grave and heart-wrenching step after another, and silently leaves Eric's room, his apartment, his life, and Miami…

For good.

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** Yeah, I know… short chapter. And no outright smut either, even though it's implied. It's a cruel world. And even more cruel Penguins, for that matter. Oh, and my apologies for posting this later than usual.


	7. Running Out Of Fools

**Title: Easier To Run – 7/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **PG

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park. And thanks to Sunhawk for this chapter prompt: "Running Out of Fools".

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 7 – Running Out Of Fools

_I__ It's easier to run  
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made)_

_"Fight for me, Eric," he whispers now, pouring out his heart's breath into the Cuban's ear. "Fight for us…"_

_He can feel the burn in the backs of his eyes as he softly kisses Eric's cheek for what may possibly be the last time. Then he pulls away and glances down, hazel greens lingering for just a moment, heartsick with pain and longing._

"_Come find me…"_

_Eric doesn't even stir._

"_Find me…" he whispers again and again, hoping that Eric can somehow hear him through the haze of his slumber. "Find me… Find me…"_

_Taking a last mournful look at the still-sleeping man, Ryan breathes a silent but heavy sigh before slowly and half-heartedly getting up from the bed. And without giving himself a chance to second-guess his decision, the former CSI walks quickly to the door, one grave and heart-wrenching step after another, and silently leaves Eric's room, his apartment, his life, and Miami…_

_For good._

--

Hours later, Eric wakes up without opening his eyes, fearing that he's alone in his bed again and yet knowing full well that Ryan's already gone, the void underneath his arms and the lack of warmth beside him confirming what he wants so badly to deny.

For the next half hour, he doesn't make any movement; doesn't dare to open his eyes. He doesn't want to deal with the emptiness right now. He wants to prolong the inevitable: the loneliness, the heartbreak… the pain. He thinks that keeping his eyes shut will prevent reality from sinking in, at least for a time.

And so, he remains where he is for another half hour: soundless, unmoving, both eyes shut. Beyond the seemingly peaceful exterior, his body belies the turmoil that's battling in his head, his thoughts at war with each other as they try to make sense of everything, trying to debate what he ought to do now.

With a heavy sigh, he finally opens his eyes, the empty space next to him proving once and for all the current state of things. He turns over onto his back, crossing his hands behind his head.

He stares up at the ceiling, thinking, debating…

He doesn't know what to do. His mind is full of conflicting thoughts right now. He knows how long it has taken him to find Ryan this last time – four arduous months to be exact. Ryan had made good on severing all contact the first time he left. He'd covered his tracks damn well. Almost _too_ well, in fact.

And knowing the former CSI, it will likely take Eric even longer to find him again… that is, of course, should the Cuban desire to make another contact. He knows that Ryan won't stay in the same place for long, especially now that he'd been found. He'll most likely move again, change his cell phone number, and then disappear the first chance he gets.

Only this time, he won't make it easy for Eric to find him.

And Eric knows he'll really have to prove himself next time he tracks him down.

But a part of him is asking, _"Haven't you proven enough by finding him the first time?"_

Eric only shakes his head at that, silencing the wayward thought. He knows he has to really fight for Ryan now, fight for what they had with everything he has. That's because he knows, too, that deep inside, Ryan was right…

He didn't fight for him like he should have when Ryan lost his job.

In his righteous indignation, he thought (and felt for certain) that he, too, was doing the right thing. But the truth is, he _had_ given up too easily, afraid for his job's security, afraid of what others might say if he "sided" with the younger man. He knew that Ryan didn't expect him to take his side completely. But what he didn't expect was for Eric to blame him for everything, fighting him instead of fighting _for_ him.

And Ryan never expected Eric to turn his back and walk away.

That, more than his finger-pointing and their bitter shouting match, had left Ryan feeling alone and angry and hurt. He'd left Miami feeling devastatingly betrayed… by his friend and lover, no less.

He knows he should've been the first one there by Ryan's side, understanding him, defending him, supporting him… even if he knows Ryan did the wrong thing, monumentally fucking up his job despite the best of intentions.

But that's all that should have really mattered, right?

The best of intentions?

Because his soul tells him that he does believe Ryan's reasons, regardless of how ridiculous he thought they were. And his heart is still resolute in its refusal to doubt the younger man's sincerity: he did what he had to do to protect the lab. Simply put, even though Eric had disagreed and still disagrees with the way the younger man handled the situation, he knows he can't really fault Ryan for not wanting to be blackmailed by a suspect.

No… He can only fault Ryan for being proud, for assuming that he could try to right things on his own, for lying to Horatio instead of leveling with him and asking for help, thinking he can get away with it and solve the problem himself.

And he can only fault him for being as pigheaded as he is – intractable when it comes to making him stay.

_"But can you really blame him?"_ the voice in his head asks.

After all, what was there left for Ryan in Miami if he couldn't be a CSI?

What was he supposed to do when the team turned its back on him, abandoning him despite his intention to protect them?

In both of these instances, Eric can clearly see why Ryan had to leave. And he can fathom why he wouldn't want to stick around in Miami either. He'd felt abandoned, yes. And betrayed by the ones he had called "family".

But only one question actually held a determining sway in Ryan's decision – one question that Eric himself has been afraid to acknowledge, to give voice to… until now.

Was there really any reason for Ryan to stay when even the man he loved wouldn't fight for him?

_"You're a fool, Eric,"_his mind answers. i_"You were a fool to leave him, and you're an even bigger fool if you let him go again."__/i_

--

_Fourteen months later..._

"Eric?"

"H…" the Cuban's voice held a perceptible resolve despite an undercurrent of uncertainty in his posture. "I think this is it. I think I found him."

The red-head takes a step closer and cocks his head to the side. A look of comprehension softens his face.

"You're sure about this?"

"My contact says he's positive. That and… I got the pictures to prove it," he answers.

He hands the older man a brown manila envelope and watches as he takes a look, flipping through each page unhurriedly, trained eyes roaming through the images, systematically studying the photographs.

"I got a good look at them," Eric continues after a while. "It's him. I know it."

"So, you found him," Horatio asks more than states, stuffing the evidence back into the envelope before returning it to Eric.

"Yeah… I can't believe it. I mean, I've been waiting for this to happen, you know? I've wanted to find out for the past fourteen months. But now that I already have it…" he takes a deep breath, exhales, and shakes his head. "Now I'm not so sure."

Horatio gives a small chuckle at that. He already knows what Eric is getting at, and he knows it's not a decision that his CSI can make without careful consideration and much thought.

"I understand," was all the older man can say. Then adds, "How long will you need?"

"A month. Maybe two," the Cuban answers. "I've got some loose ends to tie up. It's going to take some time to get everything ready."

"And your family?"

This time, Eric sighs, clearly torn, "I'm the youngest in my family, H. Everyone's had a chance to live their own life: my sisters, my parents. They've had the chance to choose the way that's right for them, even if the family didn't always agree with those choices. Even Mari's had a chance to follow her heart, to go after what she wanted. And she did it despite knowing the risks."

He averts his eyes and pauses to arrange his thoughts, wishing he could just will the right answer to flash through his mind. But then he just sighs in surrender and looks up to meet the other's sharp blue gaze, his brown eyes all but pleading the Lieutenant to tell him the next step, the right path to choose.

He sighs, "What should I do?"

"Eric, I think…" and this time, the red-head takes a step back, cocking his head to the side once more, a slight but genuine smile twisting his lips. "I think you already know."

--

**TBC**

**A/N:** Mwuh-ah-ah-ah-ah… Another cliffie! And only one chapter to go…


	8. Epilogue: Retracing Every Wrong Move

**Title: Easier To Run – 8/8**

**Author & Beta: **Shadowfax27

**Fandom: **CSI: Miami

**Pairing:** Ryan Wolfe/Eric Delko

**Category:** Angst, Drama, Major AU

**Fic Rating: **NC-17 – for violence, lots of foul language, and some smut – You've been warned!

**Chapter Rating: **PG

**Spoilers: **Mild references to S5 episode, "Burned". And for the sake of this story, let's pretend the _"We, Mr. Wolfe, are not going to abandon you"_ part that Horatio said to Ryan at the end of "Kill Switch" didn't happen. Savvy?

**Disclaimer: **Don't be silly… I own the Penguins, not the show.

**Summary: **AU after "Burned". What if Ryan never got his job back after he got fired?

**A/N: **Inspired by the lyrics to the song, "Easier To Run" by Linkin Park.

**Written Entirely For:** Persikay

--

Chapter 8 – Epilogue: Retracing Every Wrong Move

_It's easier to go  
(If I could change I would, take back the pain I would)  
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)  
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)  
(I would take all my shame to the grave)_

_"I understand," was all the older man can say. Then adds, "How long will you need?"_

"_A month. Maybe two," the Cuban answers. "I've got some loose ends to tie up. It's going to take some time to get everything ready."_

"_And your family?"_

_This time, Eric sighs, clearly torn, "I'm the youngest in my family, H. Everyone's had a chance to live their own life: my sisters, my parents. They've had the chance to choose the way that's right for them, even if the family didn't always agree with those choices. Even Mari's had a chance to follow her heart, to go after what she wants. And she did it despite knowing the risks."_

_He averts his eyes and pauses to arrange his thoughts, wishing he could just will the right answer to flash through his mind. But then he just sighs in surrender and looks up to meet the other's sharp blue gaze, his brown eyes all but pleading the Lieutenant to tell him the next step, the right path to choose._

_He sighs, "What should I do?"_

"_Eric, I think…" and this time, the red-head takes a step back, cocking his head to the side once more, a slight but genuine smile twisting his lips. "I think you already know."__/i_

--

_Two month later…_

A man hesitates.

A hand knocks.

A door opens.

And a pair of eyes, bright and greener than hazel in their shocked intensity, beholds the hopeful yet cautious stare of burnt caramel pools.

It takes Ryan Wolfe a full minute to find his voice to speak. He swallows hard, straining to push his voice to come out evenly.

"So, you found me," he barely croaks, crossing his arms to cover his surprise, his hip leaning casually against the door frame.

"Can't say you made it easy, but yeah… I did."

They stare for another half a minute. The silence coupled with Ryan's piercing gaze is beginning to unnerve the unannounced visitor. He looks down and shuffles his feet, not knowing how to proceed.

"How'd you do it?" Ryan finally asks, curious now.

He chuckles awkwardly, though relieved for the time being, "I have my way of finding things."

Ryan snorts at his answer. Then, a moment later…

"Didn't actually think you'd show," the younger man strikes, as if testing the air to see if Eric has come for the right reasons or if he's made an appearance for another fight.

"Yeah, well…" Eric shrugs as casually as he can, refusing to go down that road again, even as his posture unconsciously tenses at the former CSI's tone. "I'm here now."

"And why exactly are you here _now_?"

His tone holds a challenging cadence, which isn't lost on Eric. He can pick up on the subtle shifts in the ex-criminalist's stance too: the way he's squared his jaw, probably gritting his teeth underneath; the way he's unglued himself from the door frame, planting his feet evenly on the ground, as if bracing for a fight; the way he still holds his arms crossed, as if to keep an unseen barrier between them in place.

He can sense, too, the way Ryan's breath has quickened, pouring out in quick and shallow succession, more than likely in response to the hammering that's begun to pound in his chest.

"I want to know why."

It's the first honest answer he can think of at the moment. And it flees from his mouth before he can have a chance to rephrase it.

Sighing audibly, Ryan answers, a tinge of that same old frustration coloring his voice, "That's a loaded question, Eric. Haven't we been through this before?"

"No… Not this," Eric replies, shaking his head quickly. "What I meant was: I want to know why you decided not to stick around," he clarifies this time. "I want to know why you didn't stay."

Ryan merely shrugs at that, a casual answer already spilling from his lips as he breaks his gaze for a moment, "It was easier to run."

Eric isn't sure how to accept the younger man's answer, but he decides right then and there that it doesn't really matter anymore because there's something greater, something else that he wants more than answers to questions he's sure are more complicated than he's prepared to understand.

And regardless of what Ryan's motivations were for running before, Eric's already made up his mind that he's not going to give him the chance to run a third time. He's going to hold on tight and never let go.

And should Ryan decide to leave again?

Eric will just have to tell him that if he runs… Well, he's just going to have to run with him.

Period.

"Is that all you came here for?" Ryan asks now, breaking through Eric's thoughts, his piercing gaze returning to hold the older man's captive.

Eric can sense that same hint of impatience threatening to mar his face with a scowl.

"No… That's not really what I came here for,"

Wearily, the younger man sighs again, "Then what do you _really_ want, Eric?"

_Eric_.

He hasn't heard Ryan call him by that name since the last night they made desperate love. That was an excruciating sixteen months ago. And that was right before Ryan decided to skip town, to leave him a second time without a trace.

Hearing his name spoken through those slim inviting lips, Eric can't help but admit how _good_ it already feels.

He lets the spoken word hang in the air between them, lingering in his ear. It swiftly relieves the tension from his stance, draining any hint of defensiveness or aggression out of his system. And it pierces his senses and invades his thoughts with memories he's been longing to have more of, memories he's been forced to cherish alone for the last twenty months.

Across from him, the ex-criminalist unconsciously untangles his arms, his face visibly softening in response. He tries his best to keep a straight face, to hold a carefully blank expression, to keep a lid on his traitorous tears. But his eyes betray him willingly, already melting from intense green to bittersweet pools of glassy brown.

"I think you know," is the only answer the Cuban can come up with, and he knows that _this_ time, the other man comprehends _exactly_ what he's talking about.

Still, Ryan does a good job of pretending… even though his emotions are more than ready to give him away.

"Do I?"

Only this time, there's not a hint of that mocking innocence in the way he speaks. He's not trying to be difficult. Nor is he using sarcasm as a shield. His goal in asking is to find the truth – to ascertain what exactly the Cuban's looking for, to hear him speak the words he's waited to hear for nearly two years.

And for the first time, he allows vulnerability, fear, and uncertainty to flow from his eyes, coloring it with something raw.

They stare at each other once more.

"I want _you_, Ryan," Eric finally breaks, chancing a small, brave step towards the younger man. "I just want to be with you."

And not a moment too soon…

A man steps aside.

A door opens wide.

An arm flails to give the signal.

And another man takes a deep breath, smiling in plain relief as he takes his first promising step back into Ryan's home, his heart, and his life…

For good.

--

**THE END**

**A/N:** So, this was different, eh? I hoped you guys liked the ending. I just can't leave it too sad, you know? I'm still a sucker for happy endings, after all. Aren't you glad? This was also nowhere near as involved as my other fics, but it's what the Penguins wanted. Did you guys notice the repetition/mirroring of some of the previous chapters, particularly the first chapter?

And in case you were wondering, my goal here was not to detail every step of their journey, nor to pick out a specific location where Eric finally found Ryan. The main point I wanted to convey was that once Eric realized that Ryan was more important to him than anything that could come between them, he never stopped looking even after nearly two years of separation (since the first time Ryan left: that's 4+14+2 is 20). He wanted to be with Ryan, and it didn't matter where they ended up as long as he had Ryan, and as long as Ryan took him back into his life.


End file.
